Epiphany
by Tae-la-la
Summary: Set during Prom Queen. Kurt decided to follow David. Kurtofsky.


No one went after Dave Karofsky.

That was what struck Kurt. That was what shook him. Hundreds of people and not a one even took a step in that direction. These people, who had awarded him a crown to display his popularity and status, not a single one of them could be bothered to run after their King to ask him what was wrong.

Kurt looked around slowly, scanning the crowd, waiting and praying for someone to separate from the flock and be Dave's savior. Their eyes showed no evidence that they gave a damn about the boy. No one moved. A chill settled into Kurt's heart, and try as he might he couldn't shake it.

But he felt the tug. Something within him pulling him towards Dave. It was a physical sensation, an insufferable itch that would not be soothed.

He set his jaw and remained anchored in the spot where his- the King had left him. Someone had to do something.

_…I have to do something._

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned towards it, relieved. But it wasn't Azimio, or Finn, or any of the football team going after the broken young man.

Blaine had slid forwards out of the crowd with such grace, shining that superstar smile to make anyone who looked straight at it happily blind. He extended his hand to Kurt, ready to repair this broken moment, ready to turn pain into glory. He was radiant. The lights reflected off his smile, his perfectly gelled hair, his always glinting eyes. Everything about Blaine was so strategic and infallible, as if he'd planned a flawless reaction to this or any other scenario that might occur months in advance. Like he'd rehearsed every smile, every step, every breath. He looked so warm, standing there. So inviting, so desirable. Mr. Perfect. There wasn't a single thing wrong with him.

Kurt opened his mouth and for a long moment his lips just remained parted, as he struggled to summon the words that would describe feelings he didn't understand. He'd never felt so reckless. He'd never felt so much like he was drowning, and he'd never imagined feeling this _good_ about falling beneath the waves. Wasn't this supposed to be a moment of struggle? But he only struggled to believe how incredibly simple it all was. Because at that moment as he was looking into Blaine's shining, adoring eyes, Kurt understood, and knew exactly where he belonged.

The words finally tumbled from his lips, accompanied by the smallest, oddest smile. "I have to go."

Confusion spread quickly over Blaine's face, but he nodded and let his hand fall. "I'll be here."

After accepting a Queen crown before the judging eyes of all his peers, Kurt was running rather low on restraint. It took all he had remaining to walk calmly and keep himself from bolting out the door.

He didn't even think that he might need to save that restraint for later.

Kurt found Dave just outside the door. He sat on a bench under a slightly buzzing outdoor light, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. He was staring with intense concentration and disgust at the crown in his hands, flaking the gold paint off with short, bitten off fingernails. Kurt watched the flecks gather on Dave's thumbnail or fall to the ground.

Though the scene made Kurt feel uneasy, each step towards the broad boy made him feel lighter. He could feel the nagging pull relaxing with every inch. He began to let out a relieved breath, but it caught in his throat when he saw a tear splash onto the gold-painted plastic. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, folded his hands, and spoke.

"David?"

His voice sounded far too soft in this space, and he was certain David couldn't have heard it. But the other boy looked up with a start, hands darting to wipe any evidence of moisture from his face so quickly that the crown slipped from his fingers. It clattered against the ground, but neither of them had the courage to break their eye contact to look at it.

Dave's voice rasped, and the effort to sound casual was too obvious. "Hey. I… um, I didn't think anyone would come after me."

That stung at Kurt. Bad enough that no one cared to comfort Dave, but that he expected that kind of neglect was too much for Kurt to process.

He moved over to where Dave was, brushed the crown aside with his foot, and knelt before the other boy. Cracked blacktop dug into his knees and he barely registered the pain. Dave had leaned back to sit up straight and glanced with concern to the door behind which all his peers were still dancing, alarmed by the sudden proximity of his former victim. Kurt chose to ignore both their discomfort as well as established personal boundaries, and laid a hand on David's knee. He felt the boy go rigid beneath his touch and then struggle to relax.

Meanwhile Kurt tried very hard not to think about the fact that his hand was on David Karofsky. Some strange cocktail of fear and the unbearable need to blush mixed in his stomach. He was sure if he thought about it too much he would either run away or smile, neither of which was an appropriate response to this moment.

He spoke as softly and earnestly as he ever had. "Are you okay?"

Dave was dumbstruck, eyebrows furrowed, staring into his eyes. He seemed to be searching for evidence that this would soon reveal itself as a cruel joke. All he found was deep, unrelenting concern.

This seemed to unhinge him slightly. His voice shook. "A-am I-" He cut himself off and just stared, lost, waiting for Kurt to guide him through the moment.

Dave's other hand laid on his free knee, and Kurt placed his own over it. He expected the boy to pull away instinctively, and he tried, so Kurt gently gripped his hand. His eyes never broke contact. "David, are you okay?"

Dave's lips fell open, he tried to blink the tears away but couldn't, and for the second time this week, he broke down for Kurt Hummel. "No, I-I'm not okay, I'm so fucked up, I just…"

Kurt quite literally launched himself upwards to throw his arms around David's neck. After a hesitant moment, strong arms closed around his waist and clutched him desperately close.

Really, it was such an awkward hug to be in or look at.

But Kurt was unwilling to let go. So he didn't.

He felt Dave's tears touching his neck, and he tried to ignore the eerily pleasant sensation as one rolled down his skin and under his collar. He listened carefully to the muffled words streaming from the boy's mouth.

"I'm so damn scared, Kurt. I'm paralyzed. The thought that anyone could find out… and the way they would look at me. It haunts me. I just can't let that happen, I… I can't live like this. But I'm not strong like you. I'm such a fucking coward. I've broken everything and I think…" He swallowed hard, and then the next sentence came out all at once so that Kurt barely made any sense of it. "I think maybe I could handle it all if you didn't hate me. I could fix it all if I had some solid ground to stand on. But I've hammered the last nail into my own fucking coffin, and I threw away the only person who-" He stopped abruptly, and though Kurt waited, he didn't start again. He pressed his face harder into Kurt's neck.

"David, I do _not_ hate you. Please stop thinking that."

He could feel Dave shake his head weakly. "You do. And you should. I made your life hell. Pushed you away from your friends. I fucking tore you apart to keep from tearing myself apart. And I did it anyway, because just fucking seeing how I hurt you… And I stole your first kiss, I freaking attacked you and stole it. And you can't ever get that back. I've taken so much away from you and I can't ever give any of it back. And if I admit-"

Quickly, before David could register what was happening or try to stop him, Kurt pulled away, grasped David's face, and kissed him. He didn't stop. He couldn't.

Not an iota of thought went into those actions in the moments before. Kurt didn't consider doing so, didn't worry about what if, he just did it. Something about Dave's voice caused that pull within Kurt to demand more, and Kurt had eagerly obeyed.

It was as violent and passionate as their first kiss. Just as desperate, just as hungry. Fuck, Kurt felt like he was starving for David. Thirsty for him. Like he'd been living his entire life being thirsty without having known it and now he was taking his first glorious, cool, delicious drink of water. He drank deeper and deeper from those lips, and knew he would never be satisfied to stop. His hands moved up to David's hair, pulling him impossibly closer. There was no quenching this thirst.

Just as he was deciding to slip his tongue between their battling lips (he had the sudden terrible urge to lick the boy's teeth), Dave broke the kiss. He pulled back and stared at Kurt, mouth open, looking more than a little stunned.

"Fancy _what_ are you doing?"

He refrained from smiling at the old nickname. It felt different now, somehow. Like a tingle instead of a pinch. But he managed to keep composed, and removed himself carefully from the embrace. Before David could look too disappointed, Kurt had climbed onto his lap, straddling him, knees rested on the bench. Dave was in a state of hypnotized silence as Kurt scooted himself closer, dangerously close. His kilt was hiked up and splayed across the other's lap, and he noticed the way Dave was noticing his smooth, flawlessly shaven legs. Kurt wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed or flattered when Dave licked his lips.

He placed his hands firmly on David's shoulders, and drew his eyes back to his own. "Making a point."

He leaned in more slowly this time, giving Dave more than enough time to stop him. He didn't. Their lips met softly, and created an entirely different kiss than any other Kurt had yet experienced. It wasn't a surprise, to either of them. It was anticipated and desired by both parties. It felt more than good, it felt right. It was slow, and soft, both of them savoring every moment of contact. Dave let his hands rest on Kurt's legs, and when his fingertips flirted with the hem of the kilt, Kurt felt a thrilling flutter of fear and desire. Dave seemed to think better of it and moved his hands away, instead placing them on Kurt's hips. Kurt relished the sensation of those powerful hands on him.

And he was right, about it making a point. This kiss, soft as it was, was the solid ground they were both standing on in this moment. It was certain. It was a punctuation mark. It was an epiphany.

Dave smiled against his lips, and Kurt giggled softly but didn't release him.

"Kurt?"

Both boys came crashing down from their heaven and pulled apart to rest their eyes on Blaine Anderson. Kurt had yanked back so violently that he nearly tumbled from the football player's lap, but Dave pulled him back.

Blaine was standing there, pain and confusion coloring his face. The door behind him fell shut with a terrific bang, but none of them so much as flinched.

Even hurt, even scarred, he was beautiful. Flawless. A shiny-haired angel that any man would kill or die for. There wasn't a single thing wrong with Blaine.

Except that he wasn't David.


End file.
